


smoke damage (looking at the presents fucking sad)

by fromthefire



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst at times, Character Study, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kee - Freeform, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Other, Personality Disorders, Recovery, fluff at times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 22:40:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20937926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthefire/pseuds/fromthefire
Summary: Keith Kogane thought of himself as the smoke damage after a fire; a painful and permanent reminder.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> warnings:: mentions of self harm, scars, general mental illness

Allura's voice was soft. Keith figured everyone liked her accent that made every word seem important in her sentences. Her tone was always gentle and Keith wanted to kick himself whenever he felt soothed by it. The question slipped from her glossed lips and Keith kicked himself. 

The question was stupid. Every question that involved Allura and his wrists were god damn unbearable. He was always in trouble with Allura and worse, Shiro afterwards. And getting in trouble with Shiro was never worth it.

Keith found his mind to be foggy again as Allura repeated herself. Next thing he knew, his jacket was shrugged off and the palms of his hands were face up on her desk. 

Keith bared his messy wrists. He did it without a word and could only do it as if his soul left him alone in that room, defenseless. Every visit he had with anyone paid to study him had to go that way. It was only a success when he masked his emotions and kept every issue to himself. Keith never knew why he resorted to this but he figured someone would tell him eventually. 

For now, he let his body talk for him. He figured it talked a lot and more than his mouth could ever. His sunken eyes told them of the sleepless nights and terror filled naps he was put through when his body forced upon him. They also told on him when they shifted away, unable to look into someone else's for too long. Even the small scratches scattered on his cheek, his neck, his shoulder, spoke about the way Keith had tried to made his self harm look accidental but his wrists, they did the real talking.

Her desk held a cold feeling that made his skin erupt in goose bumps. He had two choices that were safe.

And beside that was a long calendar displaying a picture of a field of bright pink flowers; the word January was printed in a pretty font and soft colors. Fourteen days had a pink X through them.  
Allura cleared her throat. A stack of his medical records sat in front of the woman. He wondered how they hadn't burned a hole through her desk.  
. She gave him a blank expression that he couldn’t decipher. It landed somewhere between disappointed and disgusted, he thought. Nothing could compare to his brother's looks of disapproval, though.  
Allura met his teary eyes for silent permission to touch. She took his arm in her hand, fingers grazing his skin but never coming in direct contact with the abrasions. Small scars littered his wrist, pale reminders of his past. Further down his arm lay lacerated skin of a more violent nature. They were red and angry. None were fresh but of course, Allura was well aware of the tricks teens attempted to pull.  
“Just a check-up. To see how the healing is going,” She wrote a quick note after the examination. Allura spoke in her usual gentle manner, but her words did not follow. Her tone acted as a beautiful, breathtaking rose but her words were the thorns that interrupted the illusion. He looked up at her, her British accent accidentally soothing him.  
She pulled away, jotting down a few more notes. Immediately, Keith slipped into his jacket again, arms crossed instinctively.  
“I assume Mr. Shirogane already explained the plan to you, but I could go over it again if you’d like. The hospital has a wonderful joint office located-”  
“No. No, he told me already.” He interrupted, anxious to drop the subject. His thumb rubbed against his finger in a desperate attempt at comfort.  
“Alright.” She nodded, sneaking a glance at the clock.  
A dark hand came up to brush a stray strand of platinum blond hair behind her ear, folding her hands to get a good look at Keith. He shrunk into a cropped jacket that looked a size too big for him now. His frame never was small or frail but squeezed into the giant chair, he looked as if he was as fragile as glass, his body holding a soft demeanor opposed to his usual temperamental, stubborn one. His dark eyes that had lost their usual light were sunken in, Allura immediately frowning upon notice. But she knew it was a discussion for another time. She cleared her throat quietly and pulled papers from her drawer onto the desk. She opened a file from under them. Mentally, she prepared for the conversation, mostly for the reaction, he dreaded to have. Her lips pursed.  
“It's been quite a while since our last visit and it’s been a hectic few weeks. How about we start there?” Allura read over the file. Keith studied her face intensely looking for a hint of any emotion. “How are you feeling now, Keith?” His eyes glazed over at the mere thought of recalling the events. Unknowingly to him, his palms become sweaty and his legs began to shake.  
Memories flooded from the last weeks. He felt as if he was there again, experiencing it all over again. The vulnerability was hot and uncomfortable.  
“It was nice, it isn't now,” He whispered, voice small. His breathing expedited and his nails dug into his skin, lost in memories.  
“Keith,” Allura coaxed, authority present in her voice. “We don’t have to discuss that now, okay? Breathe, Keith.” Allura lay a hand across the desk for him to grasp, whispering breathing counts.  
Keith tried to get a hold of himself, he tried not allowing him to fully go into a panic attack. He performed the breathing exercises rigidly, nothing feeling any calmer.  
“Okay, okay, okay,” He repeated to himself, being the only word he could comprehend. His breathing steadied agonizingly slow. He opened eyes, not having noticed they were closed in the first place. They were beginning to focus on Allura’s voice, the blur of tears ceasing revealing the woman with a seldom sympathetic look.  
Allura squeezed his hand reassuringly. He bit his lip, the touch feelings disgustingly gentle. “I’ll see you whenever you're able to so I don't want you to stress out about that, alright? I want you to keep your journal with you, if allowed and just journal your feelings. Keep in mind your breathing exercises, okay?” Her manicured nails handed the papers to his chewed ones. “Take these for your brother as well. I'll look forward to seeing you again, Keith. I'll let you go a bit early today.” She still wore a sad smile. Still shaken up, Keith lifted himself out of the wooden seat. He gave her a short-lived smile back.  
He knew he looked ridiculous with the tears dried on his cheeks walking out of his session but he couldn’t find the motivation to wipe them away. His body ached and his brain was fried from the panic wracked through his body.  
“Keith? What happened?” A man with large muscles stood from the small seat and towered over Keith’s small frame in worry. He wore a tight, black shirt accompanied by a pair of jeans that were very kind to him and heavy boots. A prosthetic arm reached to cup Keith's cheek. “Why were you crying?”  
His deep voice laced with care. Keith turned his head away from his brother, tears threatening to spill once again, already shook up. But it was his brother and no one else had as much patience as him.  
“She made me talk about it, I, I fucked up so bad this time,” He wrapped his arms around himself. “She’s sending me somewhere, isn’t she? She’s really gonna do it, Shiro.” Shiro engulfed the teenager in a tight hug. A tear slid down his cheek. Large hands patted his shoulders, before bringing him close to press a quick kiss to the top of his messy hair. Shiro held him a bit longer, prolonging the inevitable conversation they had to have.  
“Keith. I’ve been trying to... to do something about this,” Keith was still being held by Shiro, his hearing muffled. “I love you, so much. I know how hard this all is for you.” Keith could hear Shiro choking up. It wasn’t rare Shiro would get emotional, but God did Keith hate every time it happened. Keith broke the hug to take a look at his brother. His kind eyes were already puffy, his broken look pulling at Keith’s heartstrings.  
“And all I want to do is just... take it away from you,” Shiro whispered with a distant look in his eyes. “But... I can't see you do this to yourself anymore... I can’t do it again, Keith. I can’t lose you.” Keith was silent. He held his gaze onto his feet, not sure what to say even if he could find the words.  
“I realize that I’ve got to take more responsibility now... even if that means doing things that you might not agree with but,” Keith met Shiro’s eyes with suspicion.  
“You’ve got to trust me, that I have a better idea of what's good for you, Keith,” He trailed off. “You’re sending me away.” The younger spoke. He took a long step back, betrayed. Shiro slowly stood in a stance that he could easily calm Keith down. Keith ran both hands through his hair, pulling on it until it hurt.  
“You’re leaving me...” He thought to himself, barely audible. “Fuck,”  
“Keith, you know-“ Shiro tried, Keith, turning away to walk wherever Shiro wasn't. A hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him back. “You’re never going to get better if you keep finding excuses not to! You can’t expect to get help to be easy, but you have got to try.” He softened.  
“You can't quit because I can't be there to tell you to keep going,” Keith turned with a quiet frown. Public discussion of his problems wasn’t something he was a fan of. Hurt and feeling betrayed by a person he held so high, Keith felt anger filling his mind. He shook his head but not moving away from Shiro’s grip.  
“I didn't just magically stop having panic attacks or nightmares, I still get them. I had to work to get better. I’m still not 100% better but I'm way happier than I was when I kept it all to myself. It's not always easy but it’s something you have to prioritize, okay? You can't let yourself get too comfortable in the sadness, because I promise you, Keith, the other side of this pain is so much brighter.” His voice spoke fast, his tone pleading and desperate. He placed both hands on his shoulders. With Shiro’s projecting voice and natural leader-like tone, the private conversation was now shared with the entire waiting room of patients. Keith felt eyes burning his skin and only confirmed it when his eyes met theirs. Judgmental and pitiful looks made his cheeks red and heartbeat. His voice was low.  
“Just because you got better doesn't mean I can. You choose to be fucked up by joining the Army, I didn't. I didn't ask for this, Shiro! I didn't ask for this shitty life or- or,” His eyes started to water and voice began to break. They wandered to the people staring and then back at Shiro. “Listen, I'm sorry that I'm your problem now and you’re the one who has to pick up the pieces, but if this is what my life is, I don't want it, okay?”  
Shiro was at a loss for words. Mouth agape, never hearing his brother directly talk about ending his life, serious or otherwise. Even if Keith had attempted weeks prior, nothing could ever prepare Shiro for hearing words as venomous as those come from his own brother’s mouth. Realizing he spilled his guts to a room full of strangers and his emotional brother, Keith ran. Out of the psychiatrist’s and down the street. It seemed like he was always escaping the bad but maybe he was just trying to catch up to the good.  
The cold January air struck him with force. He chuckled to himself, because even to him, the idea of a better position in life, was bullshit. To him, life was life and life was shit. He always believed that shitty things happened to shitty people but he hadn't even begun to be a terrible person until after the trauma. He blamed his absent mother and funnily enough dead father for the decision to bring him into a world like this. Keith hadn't known either of them, only his father for a short bit, but how could he move on when the people who were supposed to love him endlessly didn't even love him at all?  
Of course, Shiro would always chime in that ‘they love him and that he wouldn't even know it,’ but isn't the whole part of love is that it has to be reciprocated? That you had to feel it to give it?  
And for Shiro, Keith treated the man like a tool. Always pulling and pushing him away, like an old doll Keith once idolized and then forgot about. The man was Keith’s rock and got nothing in return. Both brothers only had each other as fucked up as it was. PTSD was one out of many monsters that had plagued Keith but it was the beast he wanted dead the most. It was a disease that wrapped its slimy fingers around his brother and never softened its grip. He picked it up in the Army and it hadn't ceased since. He was captured and held hostage but he doesn't talk about much with Keith. All he knows about it is what Shiro would slur during his sleep or screech when he had a night terror. A part of Keith always felt guilty when he thought about what his brother went through and what he remembers.  
A Vine went off along with a vibration in Keith’s pocket. He fished it out of his pants and watched Shiro’s contact photo pop up. In the photo, Shiro was sleeping, a giant penis drawing stretched its way across his face. It always made Keith chuckle. In retaliation, Shiro had set his ringtone is his favorite Vine, not telling Keith how to change it back. He wouldn’t admit it, but he secretly cherished it.  
He declined the call.  
Gloved fingers shoved the phone back in his pocket and continued to walk around, heading into a park, a small lake nestled in the middle. Balmera Park was written on a large sign in light green bubble letters. Dirtied Doc Martens stepped through the dirt path sprinkled with white snow, carefully avoiding the pink and yellow flowers that struggled to stick up in the snow. The park was glazed with a white blanket of snow that brought on a light breeze through Keith’s long hair. The boy planted himself on a shaded bench. A small shiver traveled up his spine, another breeze hitting him. Only now did Keith remember the papers in his hands which were turning numb due to his fingerless gloves. He bit his lip as he debated to open it. Allura did say it was for Shiro but it was painfully obvious about Keith. Plus, Keith was nosey.  
He took the papers out of the plain envelope with hesitance. Inside were two pieces of light pink papers with purple writing and a thin stack of stapled papers.  
The pink paper displayed the words ‘Altea Institution’ in pretty cursive. Besides that, a pink flower was incorporated into the logo. Filling the rest of the two papers was information all about the said institution; all the ugly parts of psychiatric hospitals looking a bit bearable to Keith for a second.  
The last paragraph contained a wordy explanation about what Altea Institution was. According to the over the top cursive, the building was set on offering help or whatever necessary to the people of the world who struggle with mental illnesses. The words, ‘not to be confused with the mundane and archaic mental hospital,’ caught Keith’s eye. The letter was written in the perspective of Alfor Altea, the supposed founder but the design of the papers suggested otherwise. Underneath all the writing were the words: “A unique take on the modern psychiatric unit.” ‘So, a psych ward without the stigma,’ he thought to himself. The packet contained a questionnaire about the patient and reasons one may be involuntarily admitted. A long list of personality disorders, eating disorders, mental disorders and more filled the page along with triggering and invasive questions Keith couldn't keep reading.  
‘Okay, maybe with less stigma than usual.’ Keith crumpled the papers. He dropped his head in defeat.  
He knew Shiro was getting serious about Keith’s (deteriorating) mental state and was considering professional help for him; he never really got around to it. But he didn't think he’d go and follow through. And as bad as it sounds, Shiro didn't have the time to help Keith as much as he should. He was too preoccupied with his recovery and not to mention the stress of supporting Keith and himself. Keith’s mind was filled with guilt. Guilt was familiar to him but only ever-present when he repressed it. He was guilty of many things most weren't even his fault, but he figured right now would be the most guilty he's ever felt. It made him yearn for the emptiness he felt weeks ago. He called Shiro. On the second ring, he picked up.  
“Where are you?” Came from the line. Keith let out a long breath, eyes following the cloud of air leaving his lips.  
“I’m sorry, Shiro, I'm so sorry,” Keith’s voice cracked his attempt at drowning it out with a fake cough failing. Shiro’s tone softened.  
“Hey, hey. You're okay, alright? I’m here with Matt and we’re parked across the street from the park you ran off to,” A glance a sidewalk over confirmed it. Keith shook his head slightly, never being able to be one step ahead of his brother.  
“Please come home, Keith, so we can talk about this. I know I'm doing the one thing you were afraid of if you .... failed.... but... I have to be clingy right now, I have to know where you are every hour, I need to make sure you’re safe. Even if I have to be overly obnoxious.” “Yeah, I, yeah, okay. I’ll be there in a sec.” Keith let his hand drop to his thigh. No matter when or what about, Shiro’s speeches always hit hard.  
Keith knew he shouldn’t be trusted. He deliberately did or attempted to do the one thing he had promised everyone he wouldn’t do and here he was constantly greeted with disappointment. Part of him longed for the eternal emptiness with no consequence but he had to repress those thoughts now. An energetic voice interrupted Keith’s self-deprecating thoughts.  
“Hey, I've never seen emo’s in winter, I think the snow clashes with their whole… aesthetic but then I saw you! Y’know, gloves are made to keep your fingers warm, doesn't work when they’re cut,” A boy with a humorously puffy jacket on took a seat next to him. Bright blue eyes flickered between Keith’s gloves and the squish toy the boy constantly fidgeted with. He gestured to Keith’s black fingerless gloves with a curious expression written on his freckle infested face. The boy tugged on the hem of his shirt, long lanky legs struggling to cease bouncing.  
“Did you cut them yourself?” Keith gave him a raised eyebrow back and a quick shake of the head, lifting himself off the bench in slow motion. The boys shared a prolonged look, neither able to break it. The silence was unfamiliar and unintentionally alluring.  
A honk sounded and both heads whipped around to place the noise. Shiro hung out from the passenger side window from the of a small car with a huge grin, ecstatic to see his brother. He motioned for Keith to hurry.  
Not being able to think of something clever, Keith settled for a meek wave which the boy enthusiastically returned. The car ride was unusually silent with Shiro remaining quiet about the whole fiasco while Matt was around. He’d most often be greeted by Shiro’s long speeches or daily nagging during car rides before Shiro stopped driving.  
They had known Matt for years, his younger friend in the Army, but they never really discussed anything about Keith’s health. Matt was kind and generally understanding but even Keith knew he’d freeze if he brought up a heavy subject or overshare his own opinion that never really made sense. Either way, both brothers knew Keith kept to himself whether it was good for him or not. He settled for leaning back in the seat and focusing on getting rid of the headache his anxiety was brewing.  
“Long day?” Matt snuck a glance at the boy's tired eyes through his messy bangs and then at Shiro’s shaking head. The two upfront shared a few hushed whispers. Keith prepared for the worst. He shrugged.  
“Not really, nothing too crazy,” He hoped Matt would get the hint to shut it. It was clear to him that Shiro and Matt had had their little discussion about him prior. The thought made Keith cringe, his past decisions haunting him momentarily.  
“Ah.” Matt nodded. Eyes trained on the road, he cleared his throat. “‘Cause running away from your brother while you’re technically on watch sounds pretty crazy to me,”  
Matt's voice was stern and almost nagging. Keith's face went hot and he struggled to see Shiro's face which had a look along the lines of ‘well, he’s not wrong’ mixed with muted concern.  
“I get it, I fucked up.” He tried to deadpan. “I’m gonna work on things.” Another look with raised eyebrows was targeted at Keith through the rearview mirror.  
“I hope so.” Matt’s voice became soft with honesty. The rest of the ride was bearable with the hushed notes of piano providing comfort through the radio.  
The realization of his situation set in. Though it had been set in all January, the idea always in the back of his mind, the outcome is too plausible. The first few days after his attempt was bliss in a way. His head felt clear and his mind was quiet of venomous thoughts.  
That had been until everything came crashing down with his family and his admission to the hospital. Keith usually could convince Shiro to not make him stay and that he’d have better self-control, which worked for a few weeks until Keith would relapse or go into a dark spiral. Shiro didn't mean to use the hospital as a means of scaring Keith into treating himself better but nothing else seemed to work. Keith couldn't help but think of self-care as betting on a losing horse.  
Everyone assumed he couldn’t take care of himself; that he’d always be a work in progress that he adopted the idea, too.  
Everyone seemed to take his independence for intentional loner-ness and his accidental emotional detachment as flat out apathy. Their words of pity and overall dissatisfaction seeped into his mind and soon enough all the negativity started sounding like him. His mental illness has built a wall between him and everyone else and that was normal. He just couldn’t find any reason to break it down.  
The boy lived in a dark world but couldn’t realize he had the power to turn on his own sun. Seventeen years of poisoning his brain with his own words was going to be a challenge to reverse but it was a fight only Keith could win. Not even Shiro couldn’t fight this one and that was the hardest fact for both of them but they had to accept. That was the first step and he just had to take it.


	2. i’m not okay (but nothing’s broke)

Drops of sunlight spilled through the minuscule holes in his curtains. They dripped onto his face with a warm force and for a moment everything felt like it was going to be okay. His eyes fluttered open, closing again when they met the sunlight.  
The light even traveled down his naked chest, the few but prominent scars now visible. He mentally shook his head and felt disgusted. He couldn’t help but wonder if every good day would be shadowed by the bad.  
Keith jumped when Shiro knocked on the doorframe and stood where a door once did. Shiro winced with a sheepish smile.  
“Sorry,” He stepped in and made his way to the side of Keith’s bed. Shiro brought a lazy hand to rub at the bangs under his eyes.  
“How are you feeling, buddy?” He asked in his soft, only for his baby brother voice which Keith couldn’t help but despise.  
“‘M fine. What time is it?” Sitting up now, Keith rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes. Shiro began to do that thing he did when he was about to give Keith an answer he wouldn’t like or was leading up to it. His puppy eyes shifted from Keith to the floor and his cheeks started to turn pink. The most obvious to Keith was his arm scratching the back of his neck accompanied by a nervous chuckle and his constant need to brighten the mood (although it was just his personality, Keith noticed the desperation in his smiles lately.)  
“About 7:30. I hope you slept well, there’s breakfast made downstairs.” Shiro ruffled Keith’s bed head. Shiro stood tall over Keith and he couldn’t help but notice the bags under his eyes and the thin pajamas he still wore. He noticed the slight sway he tried to control and every yawn he attempted to repress.  
Keith knew Shiro started sleeping in the spare bedroom next to Keith’s again. It was inevitable. He never got any sleep when he did, though he never got much sleep in his room, either. The walls were paper thin and anything Keith was doing Shiro would hear immediately and Keith guessed that's why he slept there. For his conscience.  
The only thing that bothered the teenager besides the lack of privacy was the fact that not only could Shiro hear everything, but Keith could also as well. tosses and turns, the nightmares, the unconscious pleading and more he didn’t care to remember. It made him feel safe in the most selfish way that not only he was suffering.  
“What about you?” Keith asked finally, slipping on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers. His eyes followed Shiro’s, where they were glazed over staring at his wrist. Then he slipped into a long sleeve shirt in one long lazy motion.  
“Hm?” Shiro snapped out of his trance with a sheepish look, eyes tired from lack of sleep. “Huh?”  
“You. How did you sleep?” Keith raised a brow. The emphasis on ‘you’ highlighting the tense aura in the room. Shiro ran a hand through his greying hair, his prosthetic arm not on either.  
“Uh, I slept okay, could’ve been better but ...” He tried to smile with a shrug.  
“Shiro, don’t lie to me. Not right now,” he calmly pleaded. Keith plopped on his bed and patting next to him. Shiro sat with a loud plop and he clasped his hands together with a drawn-out sigh.  
“Keith,” He shut his eyes. “Things are hard. And I know you know that I know that,” Keith watched as his brother's mouth trembled and his eyes threatened to spill. Shiro squeezed his eyes harder, a stray tear falling anyway. Instinctively, a hand went to dig nails into pale skin.  
“I think, I’ve just been thinking I’m failing you." Shiro leaves it at that. Keith reflects. Was he? Not in a way that matters, he presumes. Not in a way that Keith wasn't already failing himself.  
A large hand moves to apply pressure to the younger's hand, Keith realizing his nails puncturing his skin. He brought his hand back to his chest. He furrowed his eyebrows at Shiro who was swimming somewhere deep in his mind.  
It was a small thing that could've worked or couldn't of. The thing is, Shiro knew it would work. It was something about that thought that gave Keith an odd feeling. The terrifying feeling that he was the one failing himself; not his brother.  
"I don't think so," Keith mumbled. A moment of silence passed. Shiro's lips turned up slowly.  
"Yeah. Yeah, maybe I'm just being too hard on myself or something." He squeezed the bedsheet with his free hand, letting out a long sigh. "I'm doing the best I can," He reminded himself. Keith nodded.  
"And so are you," Shiro faced Keith.  
"And so am I." Keith echoed. Another pregnant pause. "Let's go eat, yeah? We have a long day ahead of us."  
And there it was. The bomb Shiro was so reluctant to drop. It was happening; Keith was about to get professional help whether he liked it or not and he didn't.  
…  
The drive couldn't have been more painstakingly long. If it had been only Keith and Shiro, then maybe Keith couldn't complain. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.  
"Please, Matt, I can't listen to that Minecraft song again," Shiro laughed, half-serious. Matt was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel along to the ending of the song. He couldn't hide the grin spreading.  
"Hey, the driver picks and everyone else enjoys." Matt joked, handing Shiro his phone. "Choose whatever,"  
Keith slumped in the back seat, carefully keeping his emotions at bay. Truth be told, he was afraid. He was afraid and soon enough, his fear would come true. He repressed it.  
"You okay back there?" Matt watched him through the rearview mirror.  
"Do you ask anything else?" Keith muttered before he could help it. He shrunk into himself, mentally cursing himself.  
"Keith-" Shiro began but Matt waved him off, offering him a kind smile.  
"There's plenty I could ask, but there's not much you'd want to answer, is there?" Eyes on the road, Matt snuck observing glances at the younger boy. Keith widened his eyes, uncomfortable with the confrontation. He shrugged as he looked out the car window and Matt dropped it.  
Shiro visibly tensed. Bang Bang began to play in the background.  
"And you shame me for the Minecraft song?" Matt gasped at Shiro, stopping at a stoplight. “New rule: No Ariana Grande is allowed until the disrespect towards Minecraft stops,” He turned to face Shiro, their conversation lost in Keith's mind.  
“You know, I’m your family, too, Keith,” Matt said after a moment. “You /can/ trust me, even if your mind says not to. It's just us.” Keith brought his head up to question him. Matt gestured to Shiro. Keith could see his smile from his eyes in the mirror. “Well… me, Jessie, and Ari,” He spoke along to the song, drawing a snort from Shiro. The younger boy shook his head with a roll of his eyes. He suppressed a smile.  
Matt confused Keith. Keith was confused by a lot but something about the guy drew his attention. How could a human be so kind and so joyful after the war? After the war and all that it brought.  
It was a conundrum that Keith couldn't battle. Matt was 9 years younger than Shiro and it showed. Matt had the emotional maturity of a puppy and the intelligence of one too. Of course, he was incredibly smart to attend the same school as Shiro and any academic subject was his bitch. It was just that his goofiness was a large part of him and it cast a dark shadow over the rest of his personality. Matt, himself, didn't seem to mind. His intelligence was something he was confident in and Keith could only imagine how that felt.  
Shiro told stories of every wacky adventure they went through at school and every light-hearted story from the war. Sometimes, he even told them twice. From silly things Matt did, from actual life-threatening situations, they got themselves in, barely escaping. Shiro always sounded so ancient in his stories; hearing about his brother before the bad and before ugly. Matt, of course, sounded like himself but Keith also wondered how a soul so innocent coped with a world that wasn't.  
The stories all had a happy ending though, even if Keith knew Shiro had made them up.  
“Keith?” Matt's voice sounded as if he’d been repeating it. His eyes met Keith's glazed over ones and the car drew to a stop. Suddenly a phone was on his lap.  
“Pick a song,” Shiro offered.  
He picked up the phone reluctantly and began scrolling through his music. Most of the songs were from memes which Keith unfortunately knew. He scrolled to the search bar and pressed play. My Chemical Romance blasted through the car's speakers. Matt immediately clutched his heart at the unexpected G note.  
“Fuck, I wasn't prepared to drive during an emergency,” He pretended to silence a sniffle. Shiro laughed loudly, nodding his head in agreement. He didn't know the songs exact meaning but he had learned every word when Keith listened to it on repeat for two months straight.  
“Hey, no cussing!” Shiro whispered and poked Matt in the shoulder.  
“Oh shit!” Matt covered his mouth with a shocked expression before he gasped again. “Shiro, I- shit...ttttits….?” He tried to recover but Shiro and Keith were already laughing. Shiro stopped upon hearing Keith. He turned to see black nails covering his mouth, his laughing spilling anyway.  
Both Matt and Shiro watched Keith with joy. Matt laughed again in the pure bliss of the moment. Shiro was just content to hear his laugh again.  
Soon, the song was over and Shiro had taken over the music as Matt cursed out another driver. Keith wiped at the tears that formed. He hadn't even known why he laughed in the first place. It wasn't funny or even original. He thought about it again and couldn't help but let out a stifled giggle.  
“Of course, this is the one day I don't bring my cheese slices with me. To think, I spent 100$ of my hard-earned money and for what?! To not have them when I need them most!” Matt ranted to no one in particular. Shiro watched him intently. He laid his elbow on the horn, laughing maniacally at the driver now beside him.  
“Well, that's concerning.” Shiro shook his head and went back to the music.  
Beside them, a red car raced to stay the same speed at Matt just to continue the cuss war. It was entertaining to Keith and he watched excitedly. Then, a slice of cheese flew at Keith’s face. It stuck to the car window with a surprising force.  
Matt turned towards the noise. He took a double take and let out a string of curses.  
“Oh, you think you can outsmart me? If only I had my cheese, you'd be fucking dead where you stand! If it wasn't for the laws of this land- Keith! Keith, he's coming on your left, flip him off!” Matt pleaded quickly, He glanced at Shiro for permission which was reluctantly granted.  
Keith hesitated little and brought up two proud middle fingers. The driver gave Keith a look of horror before going off on a rant muted by the rolled-up windows. Their hands flew up and then acted out what only Keith could presume as sucking dick. He wondered how the driver cutting Matt off could lead to her gesturing to her giving oral.  
“Ew, what a creeper,” Keith turned away. Matt quickly bounced out of his sour mood.  
“Creeper?” He grinned.  
“No, please no-” Shiro pleaded.  
“Aw, man!”  
Keith fell asleep to Matt's memorized song. Only seconds from sleep was when he realized the song was a cover. He cuddled against the seatbelt and fell into his dreams full force.  
“Hey, bud.” He then felt a soft nudge. He heard a familiar voice. Then another nudge.  
“Keith, wake up,” Shiro spoke slowly. “We’re here.”


End file.
